


Milk & Honey

by astraldefender



Series: What Shouldn't Mix, But Does [1]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Dirty Talk, Face-Fucking, Future Fic, Future Polyamory, Implied Switching, Internalized Homophobia, Light Dom/sub, M/M, PWP, Pining JJ, Pliroy, Praise Kink, Smut, bottom yuri, dumb boys, fuck buddies, fuck rivals????, future Otapliroy, hang tight though y'all because this is going to be otapliroy once I add the next part, implied future otayuri, just an ounce of angst, meanwhile JJ can't be honest about his own feelings, ok so like a little bit of plot though, unrequited pining, yuri has unresolved feelings for otabek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-26
Updated: 2017-06-26
Packaged: 2018-11-19 04:58:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11306154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/astraldefender/pseuds/astraldefender
Summary: "Watch where you're going, asshole."JJ couldn't say if it was the champagne bubbling through his veins or just the fact that it was Yuri telling him off, but whichever it was his soft smile only grew wider.Yes, it always started like this. This being - well, whatever the hell it was he had going with Yuri Plisetsky.





	Milk & Honey

It always started like this.

 

During the off and pre season, JJ went about his life normally. He’d practice, spend his nights on the town, entertain a wayward lover or two. A lot had changed for him in the past few years, his first senior Grand Prix finals bronze seeming like a lifetime ago. These days he stood much higher on the podium, only ever dipping to bronze again if Otabek Altin held his own for the season. No, ever since Katsuki and Viktor had retired it had become an almost sure race for gold between himself and Yuri Plisetsky.

 

JJ loved the sport, but lived for the vicious competition the Russian bottle rocket presented. So he’d bide his time, waiting for the qualifier announcements every season. The years when he was scheduled to face Yuri in the rink before the finals were his favorite.

 

He hadn't been so lucky this season.

 

He'd been impatient in the months leading up to the Grand Prix final, chomping at the bit, desperate to give the ice everything he had and then some if it meant being able to defeat someone as worthy as Yuri Plisetsky.

 

The routines he'd skated this season had been a new direction for him, employing a much different, far more emotionally driven performance. It had been a challenge from the very start, but Yuri had been assigned to the first two qualifiers that season, and though it had been early it was without question that his scores would be high enough to see the finals. So JJ pushed forward, used his desire for the competition to fuel him. In the end he succeeded, far more than even he could have anticipated. The gold medal shining proudly around his neck proved that.

 

It had been a long season, one of the hardest he'd ever skated, but JJ found himself standing proud in the banquet hall. He'd suffered a knee injury three years back, and everyone who saw themselves fit enough had an opinion on whether or not he would be able to return to skating. It was his free skate during the Cup of China, his second event. He'd been a shoo-in for the finals.

 

His knee took him out for the rest of the season.

 

* * *

 

JJ had been at his worst then, wracked to the core with his own anxieties, even stronger than he'd felt his first senior Grand Prix final. The buzz of the press, of his own fans and fans of the sport alike, of the people who wanted nothing more than to see him off the ice for good - it almost put him out of the game permanently. JJ was neglecting his physical therapy, avoiding everyone he could because even the words of encouragement had all begun to sound like terrible lies.

 

Two months after his injury Isabella texted him. It wasn't unusual. Despite how things had disintegrated between the two of them she remained one of his strongest supporters, a go to sounding board in his weakest moments. He hadn't responded to her in weeks, he knew he'd probably avoid her after this one too, but JJ clicked the link she'd sent him regardless. It rerouted once opened to Instagram.

 

Yuri Plisetsky’s Instagram.

 

He'd grown up a lot in the three years since they’d first skated against each other. It seemed like ages ago, Yuri not even sixteen and yet the fiercest skater he’d ever seen on the ice. A total wrecking ball. Yuri Plisetsky was an absolute terror and men’s figure skating’s newest prodigy. He’d never quite let go of his animosity toward JJ, but then again JJ had always known his particular brand of humor had never sat well with the Russian.

 

Yuri’s final growth spurt spun him out with the kind of grace he'd always shown through his routines. Long, lithe, and languid limbs, bone structure like the sharpened steel on his skates, stare cold like the ice beneath him. A beautiful monster, through and through. Stunning, ethereal. Dangerous.

 

His hair had gotten so much longer since the last time JJ had seen him. It hadn't been since the previous Grand Prix finals, having missed out on being assigned to any of Yuri’s events in the season just past. The weight of it cast shadows on his face, making the angles impossibility sharper, obscuring his eyes that always glinted like he just watched you make your very last mistake.

 

He was smirking at the camera, no doubt being held by one of his rink mates, brow quirked in defiance. _The Russian Punk_. Yuri had many monikers over the years, but that was the one that had always seemed to suit him best when he wasn't winning gold as the Fairy. Even then in cold defiance of what anyone would have told him was good for his image, he stood boldly in frame flipping off the lense, black polish flaking off of his finger nails.

 

**yuri-plisetsky:** _Next season, asshole._

 

JJ’s brows pinched together with confusion reading the caption. Next season what? He looked back at the photo, back to the cold stare of Yuri Plisetsky and noticed something he hadn’t before. That little shit was throwing up JJ Style.

 

_With his middle fingers._

 

In the end that was all JJ needed to finally pull himself back together. A public call out, but more importantly, a promise. A promise that next season Yuri Plisetsky would be there to compete against, and he was waiting.

 

It remained an unspoken promise between the two for years.

 

* * *

 

JJ had been finished talking to the sponsors for some time, the contract song and dance being a well practiced gambit at this point. Smile here, nod there, never say anything too binding. Stay obscure, keep vague, let them fight among themselves. Now he just stood idly within a small group of skaters, Leo de la Iglesia, Guang-Hong Ji, and Seung-gil Lee chatting amongst themselves while JJ nursed the latest in a long run of champagne he hadn’t bothered to keep track of. Somewhere to his left he could here Kenjirou Minami speaking at a mile a minute to Katsuki as Yuri groaned about whatever Viktor was scolding him for this time.

 

A ghost of a smile danced its way across his lips as JJ closed his eyes. He loved this. Skating was his life but his absolute favorite moment of the season was the reprieve after a competition, when the best the sport had to offer all gathered together for one night, the promise of competition finally gone from their minds. The lull offered an odd sense of peace, there were normally very few occasions during the season where you could see this many skaters together viewing each other as something other than competitors. Through all of his misgivings and their misunderstandings, tonight they were just people.

 

Tonight they were friends.

 

"Watch where you're going, asshole."

 

JJ couldn't say if it was the champagne bubbling through his veins or just the fact that it was Yuri telling him off, but whichever it was his soft smile only grew wider.

 

“Come on now, Kitten. I was just standing here when _you_ ran into _me_. And here I thought no one held their liquor like a Russian, maybe you've had a little too much to drink.”

 

“ _Fuck you, JJ.”_ Each word rolled off Yuri’s tongue with a poison that persisted no matter how long it’d been. “Call me that again and I’ll gut you.”

 

“Don’t be like that, you know you’d miss me too much!”

 

Yuri rolled his eyes before locking back onto JJ’s, closing the distance between them to just inches.

 

“Why waste the effort on an old man like you? You'll be done after next season anyway.”

 

Yuri stalked off, embers burning in his wake. Yes, it always started like this. This being - well, whatever the hell it was he had going with Yuri Plisetsky.

 

The idle chatter around him had returned to a dull roar after Yuri had left, camaraderie weaving the other finalists closer together, crystal glassware always staying full. JJ might love moments like these the most, but tonight he had better places to be.

 

He didn't offer much in the way of fan service when stepping back from the crowd. When this first began he'd been so careful, so methodic in his actions. Back when it was new and exciting and something that seemed like it’d be pulled away without so much as a moments notice he'd always wait, bide his time patiently. Eagerness was not becoming of those who had secrets to keep, and selfishly JJ grasped onto this like a child unwilling to share his favorite toy. As time passed and tensions settled, JJ realized that even if it ended now he'd be happy enough to know he'd even gotten a _taste_. He stopped caring so much. Was there really a point? After so long, a slight variation in technique wouldn't hide the fact that it was still the same song and dance time after time. There was no feasible way the other skaters hadn't seen it, didn't connect the dots and understand the implications.

 

No, they kept it to themselves, but they definitely knew.

 

JJ reached for the keycard in his pants pocket as the elevator doors slid open, double checking the room number before selecting his floor. The mirrored walls of the elevators yielded JJ’s first glimpse at himself since leaving his hotel room earlier that evening. A languid hand raised to the knot of his tie, straightening it out after being set askew from one too many off balance embraces with Leo. Maybe he ought to run a hand through his hair to right it after being subjecting to the Chicano’s affections, but his eyes were bright and his face was flushed and with the weight of his gold around his neck he just couldn't bring himself to care.

 

Two, three, _four tries_ to get the keycard to work, but was it really his fault that the locks don't say which way the card goes in? He's not some kind of...electronic lock wizard. He's just a man trying _desperately_ to get into this hotel room, and when he finally does and is rewarded with the long expanse of flawless, silken legs across the room, suddenly that gold isn't the best thing that's happened to him anymore.

 

“You're such a shithead, I can't believe you wore that fucking thing all night.”

 

“Oh c’mon, Kitten. I worked hard for this,” JJ teased, wandering his way across the hotel room until he stood directly behind Yuri. The younger man sneered back, turning away and staring firmly out the window.

 

“I thought I told you not to fucking call me that.”

 

A low chuckle bubbled up from JJ’s chest like the carbonation in Yuri’s glass of champagne. JJ steadied himself against the younger man's back and wound an arm around his waist.

 

“Don’t be like this, _mon Chaton_ ,” he whined into the shell of Yuri’s ear, breath hot and celebrations lingering. “You just don't like it when I do it in public, when everyone's watching and no matter how much you want to you _just can't do anything about it_.”

 

Yuri scoffed, knocking back the last sip from his glass before setting it down. “Don't think so highly of yourself.”

 

“You're here, aren't you?”

 

“This is my hotel room, asshole.”

 

“Mm maybe, but it was _you_ who put your keycard in _my_ pocket. Same little sneaky Plisetsky, all fight and bite but I show up to you looking like - _this.”_ JJ spun Yuri around to face him, eyes roaming slowly over his body, finger hooking through the tie of Yuri’s silk robe and pulling him flush against his chest. “Pretty hard to believe you don't want me here.”

 

JJ barely had time to grin at the scowl on Yuri’s face before their lips met, hot and desperate and _needy_ as Yuri grabbed a fistful of JJ’s button down. No, JJ would never be sure how this all came about, couldn't put a real reasoning to it other than the feeling of Yuri’s pulse beneath his lips as they trailed down his slender neck probably being the only thing tethering him to the physical world in that moment. That Yuri's hisses and gasps and blunt nails dragging across the shaven parts of his scalp as JJ pressed them firmer together still, impossibly close in the moment was the only thing reminding him that this was all so, so real.

 

A playful nip at the base of Yuri’s neck sent his hand flying for JJ’s belt, a hand that was caught firmly by the wrist before getting anywhere close.

 

“Not so fast, _Chaton.”_ JJ whispered, goose flesh running down Yuri’s arms as hot breath danced across the wet trail he'd left on Yuri’s neck. “I took gold this time. We do things my way.”

 

A defiant smirk tugged at the corner of Yuri’s mouth. “By all means then, tell me you don't want me to suck your dick.”

 

The words fell from Yuri’s lips like nothing, like he'd asked something as innocent as if JJ wanted a glass of water. He swore he felt his heart beat faster as he kissed Yuri again, dragging the blond’s lower lip between his teeth.

 

“You know how pretty I think you look on your knees, Yura.”

 

“Then stop telling me what the fuck to do,” Yuri mumbled against the underside of JJ’s jaw, making quick work of the buttons on his shirt, “and let me.”

 

Watching Yuri Plisetsky sink to his knees in front of him was one of the most earth shattering turn on’s JJ had ever experienced in his life. To see someone he respected so much, admired even for his unbreakable iron will, submit himself for JJ’s own needs was on its own level entirely. But _oh god_ when he got his mouth around him, that was when all the breath left JJ’s lungs. Looking down and seeing Yuri so pristine, satin robe knotted tightly around that beautifully slim waist and hair still braided elegantly from the banquet, but with that sinfully pouty mouth wrapped around his cockhead - no, JJ was under no illusions that his breathing was anything but desperate gasps now.

 

He stared down at Yuri, vision tunneling and clouding with lust as the blond pulled off, flattening his tongue and lathing the underside of his cock from base to tip, never once breaking eye contact with JJ. This was his power move, JJ knew this, but he'd be a damn fool if he ever said no to Yuri fucking Plisetsky being so willing, so _eager_. In that moment it was like Yuri had turned giving head into a god damn art form, tongue swirling around the tip, pressing flat against the slit before taking him down in one go, precise flicks of his tongue teasing at JJ’s frenulum as he pulled back up. Perfect and yet completely debauched, lips rosy and spit shined, a flush dusting his cheeks and sea glass eyes blown into oblivion.

 

“Nn..god damn it, _Chaton._ You've got no idea how fucking beautiful you look down there with my cock in your mouth.” Yuri raked his nails down the back of JJ’s thighs and hummed in contentment as he took all of him in his mouth, bolstered by the praise. The vibrations chased waves up JJ’s spine. “Fu- Yuri, _please,_ just let me -”

 

Yuri’s hands reached for JJ’s as they desperately grasped for purpose and guided them to the sides of his face, lacing JJ’s fingers into the loosening braid that circled his head. Still he maintained eye contact, long lashes grazing those razor sharp cheekbones as Yuri gave the slightest nod, mouth still completely full of JJ’s cock. It wasn't until Yuri’s hands found their way back and laid gently on JJ’s hips that he pulled back from the sweet heat of the blond’s mouth, then tightened his grip on those silken tendrils and snapped his hips forward again.

 

And Yuri, god this absolutely fucking beautiful creature in front of him, just opened his mouth a little wider and let JJ fuck his face like it was a god damn gift, like it was an absolute pleasure to be kneeling there being used. Just JJ hitting the back of his throat repeatedly without a complaint in the world, tears glassing up and spilling out the corners of his eyes, utterly sinful moans reverberating back through JJ’s body and coaxing him on.

 

Yuri knew JJ’s body so well at this point, _almost_ _too well_ he thought as he felt the blond reach behind his balls, alternating between putting pressure on his perineum and pulling them down, a cyclical game of cat and mouse that pushed JJ up to the edge only to pull him right back from it.

 

“Nng...that’s- that's enough Yuri. Hands down, behind your back. I'm going to fuck that beautiful face of yours until I come. And you'll be good for me, won't you? You'll take everything I give you because I know how much you love my cock in your mouth.”

 

And Yuri did, _thoroughly_ enjoyed it if the completely unabashed whimper that escaped his stretched mouth was any indicator. He did as he was told, laced his fingers behind his back and gave JJ one final furtive glance before surrendering entirely to the rushed pounding his mouth received. God JJ loved it so much, knowing exactly how much Yuri could take of him like this, stunning bleary eyes and saliva just running down his chin while JJ gave him everything he had.

 

“Always so, so good for me, Kitten. So willing, so _eager_ to let me use your mouth however I want. And you love it, don't you? Love being on on your knees while I wreck that filthy little mouth of yours. Is that why you act up so much in public, do you _want_ me to punish you?”

 

At this point not even the loose draping of Yuri's robe can hide how painfully erect his is, and JJ knows every word he says is true when Yuri finally breaks that fierce gaze and dissolves into a fit of whimpers and moans. Seeing Yuri so removed from that steely persona in front of him now, so thoroughly wrecked when he hasn't even been properly touched yet sends JJ’s hips into a faltered rhythm as he finally comes, orgasm crashing over him and releasing straight into Yuri’s throat.

 

His hands fall down to Yuri’s shoulders as the blond pulls those beautifully beaten lips from around his cock and gently laves at the sensitive underside of his balls. It's almost too much, sending shooting tremors through JJ’s extremities, but Yuri is a devil in disguise and knows exactly what he's doing, knows just what JJ can take in the wake of an orgasm without pushing him too far.

 

He's almost completely oblivious to Yuri standing back up until he's got one arm wrapped around JJ’s waist and his free hand guiding him into a searing kiss. It's an immediate mess of tongue and teeth and _god_ JJ can literally still taste himself on Yuri and that is so inexplicably arousing that he's got Yuri thrown down on the bed before he’s even decided what to do to him. Their mouths reconnect in an instant battle for dominance, but JJ is feeling authoritative and Yuri is still in the right headspace to surrender, soft whimpers fighting their way through the barrage of JJ’s lips.

 

Those wicked little whines were JJ’s favorite. Yuri hadn't always been so vocal, nothing they were doing had come with a blueprint, but god when they found those insatiable pieces of each other it had ruined both of them. The kind of intimacy that they had together, to know how to disassemble someone so thoroughly they forgot their own name - maybe that's why after all these years they kept coming back to each other.

 

Again JJ found himself latched to the side of Yuri’s unfairly unblemished neck, nipping and sucking and kissing but never leaving a mark. No, JJ had learned some time ago that it was easier to keep Yuri around if he didn't give him a reason to leave, and sending him back to Russia covered in very visible love bites would not help him. But damn it, JJ had won that gold laying forgotten on the floor and he was more drunk off of Yuri at this point than the champagne, so he dipped below the lace neckline and latched on, biting and sucking and determined to leave the greatest masterpiece he'd ever made on that flawless skin. Yuri bucked forward in response but made no move to stop him, so JJ ground down, pinning Yuri’s painfully hard erection between them and shocking out an unhindered moan. It wasn't enough for him though, JJ was greedy and Yuri was still so unfairly covered. It drove him mad to the point of leaning back on his heels and pulling Yuri up by the collar with him, desperate to get the, though admittedly beautiful, offending article of clothing off.

 

“Hey, hey, hey! Watch your hands, asshole. This is real silk, don't fuck it up.”

 

“ _Chaton_ what does it _matter_. I'll buy you a new one, god I'll buy you anything just _take it off._ ”

 

“Yeah right, you wouldn't be saying that if I hadn't just given you the best head of your life.”

 

JJ laughed, trailing kisses down Yuri’s jaw while he undid whatever god forsaken knot he'd tied around his waist. “Who’s to say, Yuri? Hmm? You who not even just _once_ will let me take you somewhere other than a hotel room?”

 

As the loosened robe pooled around him, JJ could have sworn a flush spread across Yuri’s face.

 

“ _Christ_. Lace? Are you trying to kill me?”

 

“Yeah right, if I wanted you dead I would have done it before the competition.” Yuri pulled JJ close to him by the tie he'd never bothered removing. His breathing was still labored. “The attitude at the banquet, the face fucking, the lace - I just want to make abundantly clear what I'm trying to get out of this.”

 

“ _Oh?_ And what, _Chaton_ , is it that you want so badly you think you deserve it when I'm the one calling the shots?”

 

“Exactly that, _tell me what to do_. Use me, fuck me into oblivion, and god _please_ keep talking like you were earlier.”

 

“Easy there, Kitten.” JJ turned Yuri’s face to the side and mouthed at the pulse point right under his ear. “You'll get what I think you deserve. If you're good and you beg prettily enough...maybe then we can talk.”

 

JJ could feel Yuri’s jaw tense as he bit back a retort. When they'd first started this Yuri would have spat something back at him. Now he knew better, knew that the easiest way to get what he wanted was to let JJ do why he did best: take him apart piece by piece.

 

“ _Up._ ”

 

There was no fight in Yuri’s eyes as he followed the finger JJ beckoned him forward with, no malice leaking through the sliver of sea glass green left eclipsed by blown wide pupils. He hoisted Yuri off the bed with a firm arm around his waist, spinning him once he was on his feet so his back was pressed firmly to JJ’s chest. Hot breath on his neck sent a shiver running down Yuri’s spine, calloused fingers notching between his ribs as they ghosted his sides.

 

“You really were beautiful out there. You always skate with fire but this was...different.”

 

“You talk too much, Leroy.”

 

Yuri fails to suppress the whimper that crawls from his throat as JJ bites down at the base of his neck, tongue laving at the indentations and trailing its way back up to Yuri’s right ear. It had been a while since any of JJ’s comments on Yuri’s skating had been meant to rile him up. For a long time JJ had thought it was simply the competitive dynamic he shared with Yuri that drove him to behave the way that he did, it had been Isabella that pointed out maybe it was because he wasn’t entirely comfortable with it being more than Yuri’s skating he found beautiful. She was right, of course. She always was.

 

With a steady hand JJ pushes Yuri back toward the bed, pausing for the briefest of moments to marvel at the sight of that perfect, lace clad ass sticking out in the air before pulling the briefs down to Yuri’s knees. Seeing Yuri like this was a thing of beauty, spotted with gooseflesh, cock hanging heavy and ignored between his legs. An honest alabaster work of art, bruises and all. If asked, JJ would answer without hesitation that his favorite thing was tongue fucking Yuri, coaxing the most sinful little whimpers he’d ever heard from the blond, gripping those narrow hips tighter when his legs started to tremble.

 

If Yuri managed to hold any of his fight this was always when he lost it, becoming a malleable mess of swears and praise in his mother tongue in a matter of minutes. Objectively he knew his resolve was not much better when the tables were turned, choking out fractured French sentences as soon as that wicked little mouth was on him. Still he relished in this moment, spreading Yuri’s legs wider while one hand abandoned his hips, reaching around to twist and pinch at Yuri’s sensitive nipples. JJ groaned as the small of Yuri’s spine dipped further with the sensation. He painted the tender inside of Yuri’s thighs with a mosaic of purple bruises, drawing a gasp from the Russian’s mouth with every exaggerated suck, kneading at the firm muscle of Yuri’s ass. JJ stared down at Yuri, took in how absolutely debauched he looked from just his mouth as he knelt back on his heels, swinging off the bed in a swift motion and moving toward the bedside table. Finding the lube and condoms stashed in the drawer wasn’t what surprised him, he’d come to expect that. What caught him off guard was the choked off moan Yuri couldn’t quite hold in just a moment after he’d left the bed.

 

When JJ turned back toward Yuri he could almost feel every ounce of blood left in him rushing toward his rapidly hardening cock, too focused on the lithe body before him to care about how recently he had come. Yuri Plisetsky laid there with his chest collapsed on a pillow, arousal flushing his face and eyes pinched shut, ass in the air and _already fingering himself_. JJ had half a mind to just sit back down and watch him take himself apart like a voyeur invited to a show.

 

“ _Chaton_ , what gave you the idea you were allowed to do that?”

 

Yuri’s voice was absolutely wrecked, but he managed to choke out the last bit of attitude he had left in his deceitful body. “You never said I couldn’t.”

 

“Maybe not but I thought you were going to be _good for me, Yuri_.” JJ grabbed his discarded tie from the floor and pinned Yuri’s thin wrists above his head, binding them to the bed frame. “You should have known better than to touch yourself without me, now you’re only going to get what I feel like giving you.”

 

Between Yuri’s legs once more JJ coated his fingers with lube, not bothering to warm it up before pressing a single digit to the sensitive rim of Yuri’s hole. He was already so relaxed and partially prepped from his own doing, but giving in to his carnal desire to just _bury_ himself in that sweet heat was not what JJ had planned. He teased agonizing circles around the muscle, never dipping more than a single knuckle in. Each time his pulled his finger out again Yuri would mewl in protest, hips attempting to buck back against the strong grip JJ had on him.

 

“It didn’t have to be this way, Yuri. All you needed to do was wait a minute longer, but you’ve always been a needy little cockslut, haven’t you?” Yuri cried out as JJ slid the entire length of his finger in, pumping methodically, excruciatingly slow. “So desperate to have me inside you you’ll go against the rules to get me there faster. That is what you said, isn’t it, Yuri? You want me to fuck you senseless before you head back to St. Petersburg, something to remember me by? You’re going to have to beg for it.” JJ added another finger before Yuri started babbling into the pillow, knuckles white as his hands closed in on themselves. “I can’t hear you, Kitten. You’re going to have to speak up. Is this what you wanted?” A single quirk of his fingers ripped an unbridled moan from Yuri’s chest as they ran across his prostate. “Yes or no. I will stop.”

 

“Бог да...please don’t stop.” Another moan fought to pass Yuri’s lips as JJ’s fingers brushed his prostate again. “трахать, right -”

 

Watching Yuri grasp for words in even his native language emboldened JJ, who adding a third and final finger before focusing on scissoring Yuri open. He knew he could go for a fourth, knew he probably should, but also knew how much Yuri loved to be stretched that last bit by his cock.

 

Yuri whined as JJ withdrew his fingers and made quick work of the condom he’d grabbed earlier. He dripped more lube down Yuri’s backside, spreading it around his sesitive rim with his cockhead. Yuri’s breath hitched as JJ pushed in ever so slightly, just enough to stretch the pleading blond around the tip.

 

“Is this what you wanted, _Chaton_ , earlier when you gave me so much attitude in the banquet hall? So needy for my cock you had to throw a fit? That you needed to touch yourself without permission? I think I get the picture, _but I’m going to need you to beg_.”

 

“ _Please,_ JJ. God, I need you to -”

 

The sound Yuri let out when their hips connected was so lewd it almost overtook how _absolutely incredible_ it felt to be inside him, all hot and tight muscle working to take as much of JJ as possible. His moans were obscene, a chorus of broken English and Russian as JJ withdrew and came back harder, _deeper_. JJ knew Yuri’s body too well at this point, knew what he wanted and how much he could take of it, knew just how to stave off his orgasm long enough and keep him on the edge for what felt like hours. Their bodies were rhythmic poetry when they came together, complementing, enhancing, made to meet like this. On the ice they were rivals, but here they pushed each other in different ways, brought out a different kind of best. It was a maelstrom of pent up sexual tension and aggression, the one constant in both of their careers these past years. No matter how the season went, no matter who took the gold, they always came back together a mess of tangled limbs. Moonlight and sun kissed, milk and honey. It’s barely noticeable at this point that Yuri’s hair had once circled his head in a braided halo, golden tresses falling like silk between JJ’s fingers as he closed his grip, pulling Yuri’s head back and eliciting a strangled moan.

 

JJ always tells Yuri how beautiful he is right before he comes, distinctly not considering the possibility that after all this time Yuri might have translated his French, pretending it's not obvious enough in the way Yuri keens when JJ’s native tongue falls from his lips.

 

_Pretend. Just pretend._

 

So JJ ignores the stalling in his chest when Yuri curls against him, tells himself it's just post coital tenderness when he wraps an arm around Yuri’s slender waist, turns a deaf ear to the sighs of contentment as he untangles Yuri’s hair and rubs his scalp.

 

This is the way it always was.

 

 

* * *

 

Waking up to late morning sunlight breaking through the curtains still wrapped around Yuri was not something JJ was used to. Normally Yuri’s restlessness woke him in the middle of the night and he left or Yuri left JJ’s own hotel room not too long after the fact. Yuri hadn't moved so much as an inch during the night, still tucked tightly against JJ’s chest, legs tangled together. It was a rare treat, the warmth shared between their two bodies.

 

JJ wishes he could see Yuri’s face. The pillow muffles Yuri’s sleepy mumbling when JJ presses a kiss to his bare shoulder.

 

“I'm hungry. Let's get breakfast.”

 

“It's almost lunchtime, Yuri.”

 

“Don't care, want pancakes.”

 

There's a tightness in JJ’s chest that he doesn't want to acknowledge when Yuri slips out of bed. He has a clean shirt half pulled on before turning back to JJ.

 

“Are you going to get ready or not?”

 

This is completely unfamiliar territory.

 

“Are you...not ordering room service?”

 

“No, asshole. There's a diner down the street and I want to see the city. Go get changed and meet me in the lobby in half an hour.”

 

The diner ends up being several blocks from the hotel but JJ can't bring himself to be bothered by it. He enjoyed the walk, enjoyed being out in _public_ with Yuri after all this time. The conversation is minimal but the silence is comfortable and JJ is _happy_ to be out with Yuri. At least he was, until halfway through his strawberry milkshake Yuri finally speaks up again.

 

“I'm going to tell him.”

 

JJ’s mouth is too full to respond so he just quirks an eyebrow.

 

“Otabek. I'm going to tell Otabek. I figure I've wasted enough time lying to myself when I should just ask him how he feels. After the Four Continents anyway, he's back on the ice again so I know he'll be there. I'd rather do it in person.”

 

They'd talked about this before, and really JJ should have known it would happen eventually but there's a finality in the way Yuri says it that twists his gut.

 

“He's an idiot if he doesn't feel the same, I'm sure everything will be fine.”

 

It was always going to end like this, JJ just wasn't ready for it.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I've read more smut than I could ever possibly account for but have never actually written it so this was a trippppppp
> 
> come yell at me on [tumblr!](gutgemacht.tumblr.com)


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